Don't get used to this, this is a special day !
by Al D. Baran ou Pervy Otaku
Summary: Arthur and Francis have been dating for a long time, and now, Arthur decides his lover could use a little surprise, and yet, let himself be taken by the game too... M-rated, FrUk, IA. Parted in many pieces.


_Mh, yes, hello! This has been posted already on AO3 but I guess my ff account could use some activity. So, enjoy!_

There were a few laughters in the shop. Oh yes, this was incredibly funny, wasn't it ? Those decrepit and bored middle-aged women hadn't had such a laugh in so long, it seemed. Arthur seemed silently, pushing his knees together in meager attempts to hide his crotch. This wouldn't do. The... __the bottom piece__ was too short, and barely even started to hide the soft curve at the start of his ass. The frilly lace was making his skin itch too, but when his eyes fell on the other options... The shiny leather of the nurse outfit didn't really made the pit of his stomach any better. Things he did for love, really... Francis didn't even start to give him enough credit. That damned asshole.

Nonetheless, looking back to himself in the mirror, Arthur felt his chest tighten in a somewhat... odd way. Perhaps his pride was crumbling upon itself at the sight of his clothes, and Arthur could understand it. Neither he had ever believed he'd see himself in such a position, and his heart thumped at his chest; an uncomfortable warmth spread on his back. But who could blame him to have such an idea ? He had been scrolling on twitter, reading Feliciano's tweets—which he posted there because well, Ludwig was just as technophobe as Francis was—and had thought he could... not __steal__ because that was not only a harsh word, but a preposterous idea, but... __inspire__ from his ideas. Ludwig enjoyed leather. Francis had seemed a little under the weather recently, and the idea of Francis being sad grated at Arthur's nerves. If once it could've made him happy, nowadays, after they had passed so many hardships together since the dawn of time, Arthur felt a fondness for him that pushed him to such ridiculous and perverted extremes.

Hence, why he was standing in the dressing room of a lingerie shop, which seemed to act as a part-time sex shop. And worse: dressed in a depraved, French maid-inspired outfit Even if he certainly wasn't innocent, the view of the very large, plastic and obvious things made him a little uncomfortable. There had been such things since the dawn of time, Arthur had seen a fair share of such things, but to hear the buzzing of them as the pack of middle-aged, fat cougars roared in laughter and commented on it, he wished he could've be done with it. The costume wasn't the one he thought might do. His boxers came out from under it, and his eyes darted to the leather-like, shiny nurse outfit. His surprise needed to be perfect. If Arthur wasn't as natural when it came to sexual things, he was at least, very perfectionist.

Taking out his cellphone, his fingers automatically led him to Francis' and him's last conversation. Something about bringing back some milk, and driving safely. Arthur scoffed at the many hearts and kisses his husband would put everywhere, even if it felt nice to see a little "__je t'embrasses__", "__bisous__" or "__mon lapin__" every where between the less feelings-filled words. Arthur had replied he wasn't a bunny. Francis had said something about sex. Arthur had stopped answering out of annoyance. Enter the "" and a few more of them chatting. Arthur didn't dare to talk about a surprise, even if to imagine Francis prancing in anticipation brought a smile to his face, which he quickly turned into a pinched pout. Monsieur Bonnefoy and his damned, enticing child-like manners could be damned.

Letting the phone back on the stool, Arthur looked over at himself again, trying to avoid looking at his own face. Like this, he didn't had to face reality just yet, and he'd rather realize that __wow he had actually fucking done it__ while pleasantly hammered by sex, and Francis passed out snoring on his back for a few minutes, before he'd come back to himself, and start licking his ear and purr loving words against his lobe. Oh. God. The vision was giving him shivers. Damn Francis Bonnefoy and his loving manners. Arthur tip-toed, groping his chest after thoroughly looking to see whether there was a camera anywhere or not, and tried to shyly lift the hem of the skirt to show how just... __grotesque__ his sack looked in a pair of small panties. At least it wasn't the ridiculous of a tong but... the fabric was vaguely moulding the form of his genitals.

Nothing __fucking Francis Bonnefoy__ would care about, but Arthur Kirkland cared about every details, and was even more self-concious when he heard old women laugh. He felt as if he was chosing the bad way. It was too obvious... Francis had been around little French maids with better arses than his for... just about a few damn centuries. He had had the time to make lewd girls with more androgynous features he'd ever dream to have—not that he dreamed, no... Francis' gentle words only __slightly__ eased his pain about being nowhere near manly as he was—, and decided to undress, and try to fit inside of the latex-leather-something of the nurse one. It was an hard task: if the soft fabric of the maid dress stretching to accommodate his body—which, while not as large and strong and sturdy as many men, was not yet small and delicate enough to fit nicely in those clothes made for cheap sex between pornstars—was firm and he feared to break it.

And with this one on, he felt even more exposed than naked. The dress was just a bit longer, covering his sack and cock a bit better, but not bit much. The costume left him a very limited range of movement, and Arthur made the mistake to look at himself in the eyes, and realized he looked just as depraved as Francis, and bashfully looked down with a pitiful, desperate whine. __That wasn't the worst__. His dignity was left behind, completely violated and swollen and broken, and yet, he still thought more about if Francis would like this better than the other dress.

If Francis ever wondered again if he truly loved him, he would punch his damn perfect white teeth of off his damn fucking mouth.

The problem was still the same, and Arthur had another one again. The nurse would require to... well, play dirty. If he wanted everything to perfectly go according to the plan he had been carefully planning for so long, and no one would ruin it. Not even himself. The Briton was despairing, and quickly realized he knew little of Francis' preferences, and felt bitterness come to his mouth. When had been the last time he had agreed to play with his lover's need rather than just fulfilling his plain one ? Francis never complained. But... Arthur felt a little guilty now. Everything was always going his way, and if, in rare and scarce occasion, Francis tried to convince him to go his way and spice up their sexual life, Arthur would spend more time hesitating than they would have having sex. Which was saying something regarding the Frenchman's impossibly high stamina.

Maybe Francis did deserve to have something nice.

And... about nice, Arthur knew he couldn't play dirty. And whatever he would do, Francis would like it. Unsure, the Briton looked back to his cellphone, and flipped the screen and closed his eyes... and then gave up, and swiftly flicked it back to the text screen, and selected Franics, and let his fingers graze the plastic keyboard of the BlackBerry, looking to the letters and kisses emoticons and loving loved words, unsure if he wanted to ask him or not, and changed again, deciding that shyness was enough, and changed to the maid on again, feeling more better now that the leather wasn't keeping him from breathing.


End file.
